


Gobal Warming

by Tribi



Category: DCU
Genre: M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tribi/pseuds/Tribi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superman goes into heat, Batman helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gobal Warming

He has to stop to refuel twice but at least he doesn't have to ask for directions.  The joke doesn't make him smile and does less than nothing to ease his worry over the delay refueling has cost him.  There's a steady unmoving red blip on a screen and he lands as close to it as he can on the depressingly slushy Arctic snow.  He's probably going to need Superman's help to get the wheels unslushed and get out of here again, but he leaves it for now.  Walks away from the slightly lopsided jet and towards a dark head that's popping up from a melt pond on the ice sheet.  He looks like a seal with big blue eyes.

As he gets closer he starts to notice thing, like the steam that's coming not from the inexplicable hot spring somewhere beneath the ice but is coming off his friend's body.  His friend's nude body, because he notices that too.  He crouches near the edge, dangerously close to the edge but it doesn't matter because Clark won't let him fall.

Bruce wants to take off his cowl but he's unsure, the wind chill he had been monitoring on his way would suggest that he should keep it on but the steam keeps fogging his lenses.  He reaches up to undo some secret clasps and takes it off.  His neck has to twist and turn to celebrate the sudden freedom and his shoulders roll themselves with the relief of finding Superman skinny dipping.  This is why he always tries to leave the cowl on.

Clark is very still in the pool, his hair is curling up at the tips and his blue eyes are tracking Bruce but he hasn't moved.  The eyes, the jaw, he's agitated and rather than say anything Bruce just waits.  There's nothing he could say that isn't completely obvious anyway.

"I'm an alien," Clark finally says, which is sort of funny because Bruce was just thinking about obvious things which didn't need to be said.

"So I've heard," replies Bruce because he wants to emphasize that he knows and he's here anyway.  Because he can't say 'I stuck a tracking device on you ages ago and it stopped moving for longer than it had ever stopped moving before and I lost my shit and flew here.'

"Yeah," nods Clark and for a moment Bruce is shy about how much of his worry he might have displayed.  "You know about my muscles and bones, about my strengths and weaknesses but with only one example of the species to exam what do you know about our reproduction?"

Bruce looks startled even though this is one of the scenarios he thought about (fantasized about?) on the jet.  He settles himself more comfortably on the ice to hide the way he needs to shift his hips.  He tries not to smile but he can't really help it when he glances up through his sweaty bangs at Clark, readjusting his position in the melt pool, the red of his lips, the tension in his shoulders...

Clark splashes him, "I swear to god, one Pon Farr joke and I will end you.  I will more than end you, I'll set it up so it looks like the god damn Penguin killed you and your reputation will be ruined."

"Hey, hey there Clark, I can control myself," appeased Bruce holding his hands up, the 'can you control yourself?' was left unsaid.  Clark tries not to pout, he flicks at an ice chunk and decides splashing is as childish as pouting.

It startles him when Bruce speaks again and when he looks up he's taking off his gauntlets too now.  Clark stares but Bruce doesn't notice because one of his catches is iced up and he's glaring at that, "so it's like a heat then?  Can Lois...?" he trails off because he doesn't really want to finish that thought.

Clark shifts and the pool seems to heat up, to sizzle almost.  "She," he starts and then clears his throat and dies a little, "she isn't really into pegging."  Words you never really want to share with your friend or whatever the hell Batman is to Superman.

When Clark can finally lift his head again he sees that Bruce has spread his cape out on the ground and he's arranging his uniform on it neatly, orderly as he strips it off.  And then Bruce is standing there in tight black boxer briefs, the cold is doing terrible wonderful things to his chest and his thighs where the soft dark hairs are springing up and almost buzzing with the cold.  Clark swallows and watches as Bruce slides his fingers into the waistband of his underwear, pulling the elastic out so something which is apparently unaffected by the cold can rest against his abdomen.  Bruce stands there like that and asks, "may I?"

Clark nods and another rush of steam leaves the pool.  "You aren't going to cook me are you?" asks Bruce as he dips a long sexy toe in.  Clark shakes his head no and dies a little more because he called Batman's toes sexy.

But then Batman is in the water with him and he's scooping him up somehow.  Clark had made a hot tub shape out of rock and sunk it in the Arctic slush so once Bruce had worked out the shape of his surroundings he had braced his legs apart and dragged Clark off his bench of sorrow, dragged him to his chest and wrapped his arms around Clark.  He was surrounded by Bruce, cocooned by Bruce, it was a good start.

Bruce clutched Clark to him, his weight was manageable in the water but Superman was so big, his chest, his back, and Bruce wanted to dwarf him.  He wanted to dominate him, it was all wrong that Clark should come here all alone to try and tough it out or whatever he thought he was doing.  Didn't he know that Bruce, that Bruce would worry, would help.  Didn't he know that Bruce had a dick?  He probably knew now with it jammed up against his own.

Clark looked down at Bruce, his face (Clark's) so open and grateful and wrecked.  Like whatever control he had found by running off alone, by melting the fucking north pole with his heat, Bruce had just ripped it all away and Clark was so grateful.  He looked down at Bruce with his messed up hair and his flushed cheeks and his fucking Bruce-Wayne-I-own-you lips and he thought, fuck yeah you own me.

Clark's hands were wet as he ran his fingers through Bruce's hair and made it slightly less terrible.  He scooped up more water and rinsed Bruce's cheeks, traced his lips.  Bruce's arms jolted against his back and his mouth opened up to capture and taste Clark's finger.  He sucked it in to the second knuckle and his cheeks hollowed.

"Fuck," sighed Clark and wiggled his hips against Bruce.  Bruce kept sucking even as Clark tried sliding a second finger in.  Even though Bruce was the one holding him Clark started to feel unsteady, "maybe you should sit?" he offered.

It was better and worse with Bruce sitting, Clark still snug on his lap.  Bruce now had his hands free to touch Clark everywhere.  They dug into his shoulder blades, they swept down his sides, they squeezed his hips, they slid back and cupped/kneaded his ass.

That was all good but Clark felt his whole body flush as slick fluids dribbled out of his body down there.  He pulled away a little, scared that he might actually burn Bruce.

Bruce slapped his ass and tugged him back in.  He bit at Clark's jaw and growled in his ear, "you're not allowed to be ashamed of this body, because right now it belongs to me."

Clark opened his mouth to argue or say something stupid about too many pornos in the bat cave but Bruce must have been waiting for it because he swooped (heh, bat) in and kissed him.  Kissing the Bruce-Wayne-I-own-you lips was like a whole other level of possessiveness.  This is crazy thought Clark as he tried to open his mouth wider like Bruce's hand on his jaw wanted him to; I could kill him easily so many different ways.  But Bruce seemed to have forgotten that and Clark didn't want to stop the kissing to remind him.

Bruce hoped that the kissing was sufficiently distracting so he could go back to exploring Clark's ass.  He had felt the hot blurts of fluid jetting out of Clark and it made him hotter than he wanted to admit.

Finally there was something he could help Clark with; he saw so much of himself in Clark with his stoic going off alone to deal plan, of course Bruce would see right through that.  He had followed hoping he could help and this, this was something he would fight an army to get to help with.  He pulled one cheek to the side and trailed a finger from the other hand down the seam until he reached the hole that the hot viscous fluids were streaming out of.  He probed it gently and Clark broke their kiss to tild his head back and moan.  It almost killed Bruce.

"N-normally I have the same urges as a heterosexual Terran male," he explained in gasps.  "But every few years this happens.  I get so wet and hot," Bruce nodded dumbly, very hot and very wet, he could verify that.  "And it feels empty," and oh dear god Clark had tears in his eyes now, Bruce pulled him closer again.

"Shh, it's alright.  Now that I know about it I can help you."  He smiled at his own words, "I can take blood samples and analyze them at the lab.  There's probably something I can synthesize to temper or stop it when you feel it coming on."

Clark looked at him with hurt in his ridiculous blue eyes, "do you want to go to your lab now?"

Bruce smiled and rubbed his nose along Clark's neck, "no, I definitely don't.  We should try to gather more data until you're comfortable enough to go."

Clark shifted on his lap again, "until I'm comfortable?" He asked with a nip and a smile, "I'd like to see you get your pants on with this in your way."

Bruce's face, his eyes especially, got the sweetest most amazing crinkles before he swooped up and kissed Clark again.

"What kind of data exactly?" asked Clark later when Bruce had four fingers up his ass and he couldn't get his eyes to work.

Bruce slipped two fingers out but left his longest, thickest ones in, he wrapped his other hand around Clark's dick and leaned in close to bite his ear.  "Clark, I need you to orgasm on my fingers first so I can observe your reactions."

"I"m not going to squeeze your dick off Bruce," panted Clark with some degree of certainty.

Bruce gave his dick an extra twist-squeeze combo and did something with his thumb that shut Clark up again.

 

Eventually Clark was sated or sated enough considering how finished Bruce was.  They had changed places after Bruce started bitching about the water in the tub not being actual water anymore.  Clark had placed Bruce on his cape and dumped the whole thing out then refilled it and adjusted the temperature to suit the pampered rich boy, and now he sat with Bruce all cuddled up on his chest and worn out.

"How did you find me?" Clark finally thought to ask as he reviewed the last few hours.

If Bruce could have moved he would have given him a face but it didn't seem worth it.  "Tracking device,' he mumbled.  "And if I tell you how or where it is you'll remove it and I'll have to plant another one probably somewhere invasive, now that I have access to invasive places, so let's just leave it."

"Okay," grumbled Clark but it was going to bug him now (ha ha bug.)

They didn't want to talk about Lois or what it meant to be the last of your species and get the biological whammy, they didn't want to talk about what this meant for their friendship or the years that might pass before the next heat.  They didn't want to talk about all the hugging and cuddling and kissing.  They stayed there not talking until Bruce's stomach started growling.

They got dressed and walked back to the jet.  Clark cocked his head in surprise at the little jet forlornly sunk in the slush.  "I'm surprised that had the range to get here," he said.

"It doesn't," replied Bruce, "I had to stop for gas.  Twice."

"Did you put it on your Wayne Industries card or do you have another Bat Card?" asked Clark with a laugh.

Bruce wished he had put his cowl back on because the truth was worse.  Clark started laughing harder, "you stole it didn't you?"  He saw the way Bruce was holding himself, waiting to be scolded but it was just too sweet to yell at him over it.

The thing was probably on fumes again and stuck in the slush, not the slick calculated rescue one would expect from Batman.  The thought warmed his chest and other parts of him too.

"Can I give you a lift home?' he offered.

"That would be nice," said Bruce wondering what time it was and how many messages he had missed.

"We could get dinner too?" suggested Clark with a hopeful sort of look.  Bruce put his communicator away without ever opening it and nodded.

Clark wrapped his cape around Bruce and held him close with one arm, grabbing a sturdy looking bracket of the jet with his other hand.  Bruce didn't correct him so he figured it would hold or Bruce didn't like that jet anymore anyway.

He started off slow to make sure everything was secure.  Bruce's face was really close but he had put the cowl back on so that helped.  "Thai?" he asked and then stumbled on when Bruce looked inscrutable, "I mean like, um, seafood, for dinner?"

"That would be great Superman," replied Bruce because he had the cowl on again.  "And it reminds me, if you have another heat, and I'm not available, promise me you won't got to Aquaman?"

"To Arthur?" asked Superman and even he couldn't tell if he was feeling jealousy or disappointment or just confusion, "why not?"

Bruce got a very shrewd, mean sort of face and leaned closer to Clark's ear, "his dick has barbs," he whispered with a long look at the dark sea whipping past beneath them and a quick bite to Superman's lobe when it looked like he might drop the jet.

Superman pulled up and they started flying a lot higher over the water.  "How do you know that?" he asked and worried.  He worried about whether his suit and his cape hid wet spots.  He worried about how private the bat cave really was.  And he worried about how on earth he was going to control himself while Bruce ate something, ate some food, with that mouth.

And later when he thought more about it he really worried about how Bruce knew that.


End file.
